In Ha
by 00Zero
Summary: Cheese in the trap. This story is telling how she become who she is today.
1. Chapter 1

Holding to a pair of cold stiff hands, I knew it would be the last time I would ever touch it; the hands without warmth. Even though I was young, I understood. I clung onto the long wood box that my father was laying in with my entire strength as people put the cover over it.

"No, don't cover it! If you do, he won't be able to get up!" I screamed, holding to it as if my life were depended on it. I was terrified at the thought of him being put into such a deep dark hole. "Wake up dad! Wake up and tell them to stop," I wailed as strong hands tore me apart from him. The wood box was slowly lower into the scary hole. "No, please no." I hit, kicked and scratched with every ounce of energy I had to make way to the big hole in hope to stop them, ignored my surroundings, ignored my little brother who, too, cried loudly.

I was only eight and did not clearly understand what death was, but I knew one thing that you would never see the person again. I had learned that from some of my friends who had lost their parents. I never thought I would become one of them so soon. I did not want to accept the fact that never again would I see my father. That was why I screamed and clung onto him in such manner.

If I called him loud enough he surely would open his eyes. He never could ignore me for long when I threw a tantrum and would always come to scorn and then sooth me. This time, too, I would wake him up. I won't let them buried him under the ground. I screamed until my throat felt sore, my voice became husky, but he remained still. The people gave me pity looks as they watched me in silence.

The moment they covered my father's box with dirt, I cried louder than ever. My voice was echoing inside my head, I felt like my throat would tear apart, but I didn't care. I did not want it to be the last time.

_They are burying him! _

Even if he did not wake up, I wanted to be able to see him and touched his cold hands whenever I wanted to. But my instinct was right, that was the last time I touched that pair of hands.

Too soon, I had to experience such painful feeling again and again. When I looked into the wrinkling hands, this time, I sobbed in silence. I knew no matter what I did or how hard I cried, grandfather, same as my father and mother, would not come back.

They couldn't come back!

In my right hand was a small warm hand that gripped tightly into mine, the hand that I had to protect. In Ho, my only bother. No matter what happened we were all we had.

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Author's note: I have always find In Ha's character a challenge to write, but was never able to start it. I don't know much details about her past such as when she lost her parents or if she lost one or both at a time. This is the beginning of my fanfiction and hope to make her stay in her character as much as possible. Please let me know what you think about it and if I her stray out of her character. I will try to finish it as soon as I can because if I don't then I might lose interest and never finish it. Forgive my bad grammars. Thanks for the read.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** _Owning Cheese In the Trap, creating such mystery plot that have you glue to the story, expected the unexpected, and made your head spin around not sure what to believe, I wish I were a genius like __**Soonkki**__._

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"Sis, come with me. I will take care of us." If it were years ago I would not hesitate to go with him, In Ho. He is my only brother and I would have stick with him to the end, but not anymore. Reality has tough me that will power alone cannot accomplish everything. You are either gifted or you are not, and if you are not, no matter how hard you're struggle the only thing awaits are failing. I have experienced it first handed. That's why I was so angry that he foolishly broke his hand. I heard myself laughed at him knowingly how hurtful my words were, especially at his weakest stage, trembling in fears. With each word, I resembled her more and more, our devil aunt, and I hated it to the bone, but I couldn't stop myself.

I was angry at him for being imprudent and angry at myself from losing control over self-pity when I should be comforting him, but instead I robbed salts to his wounds, saying things I could never take back.

He lost the gift I never have, the one I'd been taunt, laughed at and compared to, my entire life. He has no idea how much I was jealous of him, of the effortless he gave and the opportunity he got, yet he carelessly lose them all. His whole life and future crumpled before his eyes, I knew he was terrifying. He turned to me, his only sister, for guidance and yet all I did was criticized him. I couldn't detest myself more.

Maybe it was the deep scar that he once walked away leaving me with our evil aunt when I tried to stand up for him. Rationally I understood, he was just a kid and he could not help me even if he had stayed, but the image of his back turning away had killed something inside me. Faith and trust. My brother, my only family had abandoned me. I was all alone.

While I entertained my aunt as a punching bag, my insides twisted with each hit from her unrestraint fist. I covered my head with my arms; her words cut my throat like sharp knives, forcing the airs out of my lungs. Pain screamed from my rips, my body jerked in protested as each bruise decorated itself on me. I crawled on the ground, her hateful words hugged my heart with a crush that could break a person. But the whole time, my mind was focus on one thing, and that was the image of his back running away. I came to a realization that if I wanted to survive I would have to depend on myself and myself alone. No one would come to save me and I would die waiting if I waited.

The next day I showed my bruises body to a man who came to check on us. I did not expected the man to help, just a way of rebellious against that wicked Aunt, telling her I would not sit still and let her have her way. I knew the consequences would be worse when the man left, but I was willing to take every blow to show her evil face to the world. Surprisingly, he took us in under his guardianship, the Yoo family.

Living with the Yoo family, rich and kind, was like living in a dream. I felt like Cinderella. We could have anything we wanted, as long as we behaved. I went to a good school, being admired by the boys, and envied by the girls for having a handsome brother and a perfect prince, Yoo Jung, as friend. I was special to both boys.

No longer did I afraid of the large angry hands that searched to bruise my fragile skin and break my jaw for no reason. I no longer had to cry myself to sleep cuddled the pains with each tugged and turned. I no longer had to listen to that drunken woman telling me I was trash. How she only took us, the unwanted children, in for money, as if money were the most important thing in the world. Why should I believe anything she said when I knew it wasn't true. Every word came out of that mouth could kill. It was her pleasure seeing me, crawling, crying and struggling powerlessly protecting myself from her aimless punches. The pain I inflicted was her joy. It was her sick way of releasing pressures from her sorry pathetic life.

But every dream has to end and wake up to face reality, in my case it was turning into a nightmare. Mr. President told me to give up on art, the one thing I have put my whole heart and soul into, saying he could not support the both of us siblings. Yeah right, as if a five year-old would believe him. His family is one of the richest families in Korean.

He's willing to let me burn his money on expensive clothes, cosmetics, and other useless things, yet not for the one thing I truly hold dear to. So I do as he wants, wastes it all, buy all useless things I could get my hands onto. And now I can no longer stop myself.

What have shaken me most was the fact that he stopped me because I wasn't talented, implying I wasn't worth to invest. A gift-less is equal to a useless person. He might not know, but what he took from me wasn't just art but the confidence I have built up over the years. The denial of my aunt's words I strongly refused to give in that I was valueless just because I wasn't talented like In Ho. I could hear them shattered loudly over the floor like broken glasses. If only I were gifted like In Ho, how many times I would think bitterly at my cruel fact. I am not my prodigy pianist brother, or a genius like Yoo Jung, who takes everything perfectly like fish to water. I am just me and no matter how hard I tried, I fail. So I stopped trying. The only thing I have is my looks, and without that I have nothing. I could hear the laugher of that woman telling me over, over again how unworthy I am. The woman I thought I have been free from is haunting me once more even though she's not here with me.

In Ho left, a broken soul he was, holding his head high with pride and refused any help from Mr. President. Pride, something I have thrown away long ago. I gave up all hopes when I gave up art. Why bother working so hard when I already know the result. I am not exceeding in anything. The one thing I have is looks so why not use it. Men have been chasing after me no matter how badly my attitude is, or how harsh I treat them. What they really want isn't me, I know, but to fill their ego, to make them feel superior from others. I am their expansive doll, a beauty they want to brats about. I would satisfy their delusion and be the pretty obedience girlfriend they want. In exchange, they gave me what I desire. It's all just business.

My brother is a proud person and refused to share the same roof with Jung again since he held Jung responsible for his injured hand, for ruining his life. He is a good kid, that's I know, but what good it would do us leaving the guardianship of Mr. President. All we would do is struggling to live day by day. How would he support us when he can barely hold onto a job for a few days? As much as I hate to admit, money is everything and the habit of burning them like nothing I have come to inquire would not do just any good. Both of us, siblings, would only end up killing each other with our hot temper personality. His wounded prided, his lost dark future, I would only add more pain and step onto his suffering. I could not be his supporter when I am struggling with my inner self too. Vindictiveness has become a part of me, invaded deeper and deeper into my soul. How long it would take before he would use his fist on me, I have always wondered.

Years have passed, and one day he shows up in front of my door. He has not change, and so am I. His hot temper still the same, his arrogant mouth. I am glad that he's healthy, though I would never tell him. I cannot act like I care all of a sudden when I ignored him when he needed me most. I have refused to think that I care, but he is still my little brother. Seeing him only remind of how wick I have become. I want to say welcome home, but also not wanting to see him. His face is the mirror of my guilt, of how cruel a human I am.

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**NA**: I plan to write one more chapter, but I don't know when, it could be tomorrow, or next year, depending on my mood. Hope this is a good read. And thanks for reading.


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